


Magickal Lore

by Fallowsthorn



Series: Book of Sanguine [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Autofellatio, Bukkake, Crack Treated Seriously, Dragon sex, Frottage, Hemipenis, In-Universe RPF, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, No beta we die like mne, Sexual Inexperience, Size Kink, aka lizard have two dicks now you know, dracophilia, if it counts as bukkake with only one contributor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:49:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallowsthorn/pseuds/Fallowsthorn
Summary: Farengar's tastes are a bit unusual; Sanguine can accommodate that.Or, I've wanted to write this fandom joke for years now and I can't believe nobody else has, or if they did, that I can't find it.





	Magickal Lore

**Author's Note:**

> You may notice that this fic starts _in media res_ , which is definitely a valid, deliberate literary choice on my part and absolutely not because I figured I could go back and add all the boring logistical stuff later and am now too lazy to do so. How does Sanguine get into Dragonsreach in the middle of the night? Who cares! *jazz hands*
> 
> In other news, I finally figured out em-dashes. Little fuckers ain't on the keyboard.
> 
> ETA: Now with bonus correct formatting!

“Sanguine, entirely at your service,” he said, and looked up at Farengar. “And I do mean that.”

Farengar stared, then turned suspicious. “Prove it.”

Sanguine shrugged and shifted to one of his more humanoid Daedric forms.

“Well, all right then,” Farengar said, and sat down rather heavily, looking a little dazed.

“Look, why don’t we skip to the interesting part—” Sanguine started, but Farengar cut him off.

“There’s, ah.” He paused, and made an awkward, abortive gesture. “There’s one problem, it’s just that—” He looked back at the flagstones.

Sanguine spread his hands, waiting.

“I’ve never really been interested in....”

“Men? Humans? Mer? Daedra?”

“Any of the above,” Farengar finished weakly.

Sanguine blinked, then cheated and took the answer from Farengar’s head. “Oh. That explains why you’re such a prude.”

Farengar snorted, though it lacked much humor. “How do you think I wound up with the name ‘Secret-Fire’? It’s not as though I’m the only person in Tamriel who studies Destruction magic.”

Sanguine didn’t say anything, considering. Farengar looked up at him wryly. “I realize it's not exactly convenient. You might try your luck with Sigurd. He talks about nothing but Belethor and I don’t think the old fool has noticed yet.”

Sanguine gave Farengar a flat look, unimpressed with Farengar’s attempts at self-deprecation. He did make a mental note about Sigurd, though. After a moment of deliberation, he crouched in front of Farengar to make himself seem more trustworthy, leaning closer than he needed to. Slowly and clearly, he said, “I am the Daedric Prince of doing whatever the fuck you want with whoever the fuck you want. Your life will be a lot easier if you realize that just because everyone else doesn’t want you to do that, it doesn’t mean they’re actually right.”

Farengar fixed Sanguine with the same flat, unimpressed look. Without a word, he reached into his robe and pulled out an amulet of Julianos, lifting it by the chain so it dangled in the air between them.

Sanguine barked out a laugh and stood. “Well, it was worth a shot. Doesn't mean we can't have fun.” He looked down at the floor, then up at the ceiling. Then around at the four walls that made up the small room they were in. Then he held up a hand to signify that he had just one small question to ask.

“So, were you thinking of a normal-sized dragon?”

Farengar nodded hesitantly.

* * *

The plains outside of Whiterun, at night, were a cold, blustery, and unforgiving environment. Sanguine had forgotten this, which was unfortunate for both himself and Farengar, who clutched his robes tighter around him. "I hope you have a plan that doesn't mean I freeze to death. My robes are enchanted, but... your reputation precedes you."

Sanguine laughed and pulled Farengar closer to him. On a whim, as he placed spells of warmth and silence on them both, he pressed his lips to the mage's forehead. 

Farengar looked confused, though he stayed put, if only to make sure the spells took. "That was gentle," he said, in the tone of someone out of practice at not knowing things.

Sanguine answered the observation anyway. "If I wanted a cheap fuck I wouldn't be bothering with all this." He carded a hand through Farengar’s hair, idly watching the flesh turn scaly and the bones elongate into spars. "Trust me. I want to do exactly what you want from me, exactly how you want it. I know you have inhibitions. I'm offering you the chance to forget them."

Farengar swallowed hard and met Sanguine's eyes firmly. Sanguine took that as his cue to transform.

Much as with his usual guises, Sanguine didn’t take the time to actively craft each part of his new form. Instead, he took the quicker route of searching the realm for something close to what he wanted, then becoming that thing, with a few personal touches—in this case, a sleek black-and-red twin of the dragon in the next province. He shook his head when he was done, rearing back and spreading his wings so he could look back over himself.

Farengar approached slowly, a hand held out in front of him. He looked almost reverent. He said something quietly, and Sanguine hastily added a spell to let them hear each other without yelling loudly enough for Whiterun to hear them too. “...really, actually happening. Oh, Divines.”

Sanguine thumped back down to all fours, still unused to using what amounted to his wrists to hold himself up, but he still managed a dry look, mostly by tilting his head. Farengar snorted and dropped his hand, though he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering along the length of Sanguine’s body. “Maybe not the Divines, then,” he agreed—then, abruptly, “Can I touch you? Not—I don’t mean—”

The rest of the sentence was shoved aside by Sanguine’s head butting into Farengar's midsection. After a brief moment of hesitation, Farengar relaxed and let his hands rest on the ridged crest that protected the back of Sanguine’s skull, in a weird parody of a hug. Any awkwardness, however, vanished quickly to make way for a mage’s natural curiosity.

“Is this bone? I had assumed something less permanent, but with the way it’s embedded in the skin here.... The eyes are so far back in the skull! But from what I’ve heard, dragons spend most of their time in the air, they can’t rely on scent and sound over vision....” Farengar leaned back to address Sanguine directly. “How is your eyesight? Are you anatomically similar to natural dragons?”

“Yes, except for the colors,” Sanguine said, and spent a moment being mildly surprised at how low and harsh his voice was. Farengar, however, had already moved to one side, running his hands over the smooth, dry skin of Sanguine’s throat. He made a quiet, delighted noise as Sanguine spoke, and Sanguine felt him find what must be the voice box on a dragon. He hummed to make it vibrate again, though it came out as more of a rolling growl.

Farengar walked further back, and Sanguine twisted his neck around to watch his progress, obliging when the mage began to inspect the bones in one wing. Farengar had apparently completely forgotten why they’d come out there in the first place, and was totally engrossed in simply getting to examine a dragon up close.

Sanguine was happy to let him. First because he would never say no to attention, but also because the eager, guilty excitement Farengar was feeling actually fell under his purview, though it wasn't currently sexual in nature. Farengar knew the fine details of every way that this could end badly, and held them just behind his tongue like mead, sharpening his interest. Even seeing a dragon, let alone touching one, was filed under the heading, “Not Ever Supposed to Happen,” and every time Farengar remembered that, Sanguine heard his breathing hitch just a tiny bit.

He grinned to himself and decided to nudge things along a little.

“I have a plan if you can’t think of anything,” Sanguine said, “but if you have any suggestions, now would be a good time.”

Farengar huffed out a laugh, started to say something, then stopped and eyed Sanguine appraisingly. When he didn’t continue, Sanguine arched his neck around so he was eye-to-eye with Farengar, idly noting as he did so that dragon necks were truly an excellent invention. “No one can hear you but me,” he growled.

Farengar’s expression didn’t change, which was gratifying in a frustrating sort of way. “How flexible are you?” he asked, with only a note of hesitancy in his voice.

“Spit it out,” Sanguine said sharply.

“I want to see if you can suck your own cock,” Farengar said, all in a rush and possibly without thinking it all the way through, judging by his immediate blush.

Sanguine laughed in approval. “And how would you like to see me do that, mortal?” He could always cheat physics, of course, but he was betting between the dragon’s natural build and the length of its neck, it would be possible the hard way around, too. Heh. Hard.

Though still blushing, Farengar didn’t contradict himself. “Ah... on your back, maybe? Or—can you do that?”

It was a fair question. Dragons were more angular than humans, and Sanguine had a long ridge of spines along the line of his backbone. He shrugged, as much as he could with wings for arms. “I can always try it.”

Squirming onto his back turned out to be the easy part. Dragons, as it turned out, weren’t really meant to be upside down on the ground - at least, not while they were alive. Sanguine wriggled around a little and made a shallow depression in the earth, and that helped him stay in one place, until he lifted his head up to curl forward and forgot that he didn’t have hands to brace himself with.

At which point he promptly fell over.

He heard the badly-muffled snort from Farengar’s direction, and growled in pretend annoyance. Still, he was much more comfortable and stable on his side, once he adjusting his wing so he wasn’t lying on it. If he stretched one leg out, he stayed more or less in place with his belly and groin on full display, and with his other wing to counterbalance he didn’t look too ridiculous.

Not that Farengar would have cared. He stepped closer to Sanguine and traced the plated scales with one hand. Sanguine shivered. The skin was surprisingly sensitive, unexpectedly so. A strange pressure was building between his legs, almost like an erection trapped under tight clothing. Come to think of it, he wasn’t really sure what dragons had in the way of genitals.

Sanguine rolled his hips slightly, and felt something shift, and had to lay his head down again because that had felt _fantastic_ and the ground was the only stable thing to hold on to.

Then he felt the cool night air on more sensitive flesh, and looked across at himself.

“Huh,” Sanguine said.

“There’s two of them,” Farengar said. There was a brief silence, both of them staring at Sanguine's twin cocks. “Why?”

Sanguine waved his upright wing. “How should I know? Maybe they have two vaginas.”

“Vaginae,” Farengar muttered absently, not paying attention at all. “Can I touch—?”

“By all means,” Sanguine purred, and curled himself around to get a better view.

Farengar reached up, hesitantly at first, but then with more confidence as Sanguine hummed quietly. His fingers stroked along the outside edge of—whatever that was called, that had kept his cocks inside his body—and then lightly underneath, almost unbelieving, almost reverent.

Sanguine let his tail lash once and added the quickest Stoneflesh spell he'd ever cast in his life.

“It’s as big as my forearm,” Farengar said, comparing. “So much for that fantasy, that’s not going to fit.”

“Never say never,” Sanguine countered, amused.

“That’s not going to fit tonight,” Farengar amended. His eyes widened a little as he realized what he’d said, but he didn't take it back. Instead he turned back to face Sanguine’s belly and continued his inspection. “Hmm? Look, you haven't got a urethra.” He stroked the ball of his thumb down what Sanguine had instead: a shallow groove that ran from base to tip on both cocks, and ended just below the flare.

Sanguine hissed in coiled pleasure and felt a gush of... lubricant? Semen? Did dragons even—whatever. Sanguine couldn't find it in himself to care.

He could, however, find plenty of other things in himself, including a ludicrous amount of the slick, slightly cloudy substance. It drooled onto his scales and the ground and Farengar caught a palmful of it and said, “I wonder how this tastes,” and Sanguine had to close his eyes for a moment so it wouldn't all end very badly.

“Mostly salty,” he said, when Sanguine opened his eyes. “Not very different from human.”

“Hmm,” Sanguine said, and curled around further, flicking his tongue out to taste. The move put Farengar at the center of a five-foot circle of space, beyond which in all directions was a dragon. He put a hand on Sanguine’s side, and Sanguine snagged the back of his robes with his teeth and deposited him (mostly) gently on one broad, scaly hip. “There, front row seat.”

Farengar made a small exhilarated noise that he probably hadn’t meant to be out loud.

Sanguine chuckled low in his throat and rearranged his limbs a little, now that he didn’t have to worry about leaving space. To both his and Farengar’s delight, he could indeed easily fit his mouth to his own groin - probably could have licked his own belly, if it came to that. He pushed away the memories of that one Khajiit for some other time, and tilted his head to keep Farengar in his field of vision, then slowly curled his tongue around the base of his cocks, where they joined together as one.

Farengar wasn't even blinking. He'd taken off his clothes while Sanguine was moving around, probably because it was hard to keep your balance side-saddle if you didn't have a saddle. There might have been some vague pretense of “just getting comfortable,” but it hadn’t lasted long; Farengar was up on his knees, one hand braced in front of him and the other fisted around his dick, not even moving yet, just occasionally squeezing a little.

Sanguine watched him with half-lidded eyes. His mouth was messy with his own precum. It ran down the side of his jaw in a slick stream and filled his nose with a thick, musky scent. He curled his tongue back and upwards and flicked the very tip of it at the place his cocks forked, then followed the same path back, broad and firm, watching Farengar forget how to speak. He teased himself, drawing out the motion, languid, self-assured, then pulled his tongue back into his mouth.

“What are you thinking?” he prompted Farengar.

“I never thought I'd get to see something like this,” Farengar confessed. His hand moved idly, almost absently. “Never thought I'd even see a dragon. It probably makes me a bad person, that I'm glad they're back.”

“Stop touching yourself,” Sanguine rumbled. “Rub off on my scales if you want to come.”

Farengar made a noise just a few shades away from pained, and leaned forward so his cock was trapped between his hips and Sanguine’s. Sanguine, for his part, hadn’t expected his dragon-skin to be very sensitive, and so was pleasantly surprised at the rigid line of Farengar’s cock against the softer flesh of his belly.

Then Farengar stopped and looked between Sanguine's cocks and his own, frowning. "Do you think—?" he tried.

"Occasionally," Sanguine said. "What do you want?"

Farengar chewed at his lip. His erection was still as prominent as ever, so Sanguine didn't think he was having an attack of doubt. "I'm not sure if.... Actually, I'm not sure we can even do it safely."

"Won't know until you try."

"'Crushed by a dragon mid-coitus' is not what I want on my gravestone," Farengar said.

"Eh, I can deal with that," Sanguine said. "Daedric Prince, remember? You won't get hurt unless you want to. What is it?"

Farengar blinked. "Oh. Well, in that case, I thought I might, ah, put my, you know, between yours, and it might be very nice for both of us."

Sanguine stared at him, bemused. "Would you like to try that again with more nouns?"

It was dark, so it was hard to tell, but he was pretty sure Farengar was blushing deeply. "I don't have any practice at this! I thought we could—" and here he made a gesture with one finger between two others that was mildly descriptive. "But I don't know if it would work, logistically speaking."

"Hmm." Sanguine could see his point, assuming he'd interpreted that correctly and Farengar wanted to hold Sanguine’s cocks together and fuck them like he would another humanoid's thighs. Dragons really did not seem to be all that great at this balancing business. "I could make the hole deeper?"

"Wouldn't your wings get in the way then? I, I want this to be good for you, too." Farengar ducked his head, as if he hadn’t meant to admit that.

Sanguine rumbled out something between a laugh and a hum. "It will be good for me no matter what you do, little mortal, as long as you're enjoying yourself." He didn’t miss Farengar’s shudder at the epithet. "Oh, you like that? Being at my mercy? Dragons are supposed to hoard treasure, you know." He licked his lips, watching Farengar’s wide eyes. "I could just... keep you, and you couldn't do anything about it."

"I have magicka," Farengar said, faintly strangled. His cock twitched against Sanguine's hide.

Sanguine grinned, showing off an impressive number of teeth. "So do I."

"Um," Farengar said, a little desperately. "Um, what did you mean, it wouldn't matter what I did?"

Sanguine took the deflection in stride. "I meant what I said. I don't fuck like mortals do; I have no kinks. Or, if you like, all of them. Basically, I get off on you getting off. Sort of. It's a little more complicated than that, but that's the general idea."

"Oh," Farengar said, and then, _"Oh,"_ as something occurred to him. "Have you ever... I mean, theoretically, could you reach orgasm without any stimulation that way? That is, if someone masturbated to you watching them, is the effect strong enough to make you come on its own?"

Sanguine opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. "I _genuinely don't know,"_ he said, delighted. "This is why I love mortals, you're always coming up with new things to try."

"Wait, you've really never tried it before?"

"You'll notice my domain is not impulse control," Sanguine said dryly. "Enough. I want to see you come fucking my cocks." He paused and mulled over that sentence, then decided there really wasn't anything he could add to that. "Here," he said instead, and turned on his back, slowly so that Farengar could stay on top of him. As he moved, he shifted the earth beneath him so it cradled him but left room for his neck, tail, and limbs. His wings he folded loosely by his sides. If Sanguine had been a real dragon, the position probably would have gotten uncomfortable quickly, but that was what Daedric powers were for. It was a bit awkward, but he could see Farengar and the Nord wasn't in danger of falling off, so it worked. "Try now."

Farengar had arranged himself just behind where Sanguine’s cocks lay on his belly, and now smoothed one hand up over the bulge at the base, kneading gingerly. Sanguine purred appreciatively to encourage him, but otherwise let him explore as he pleased. Every so often Farengar would remember that he was actually there and this was actually happening, and the sudden kick of guilty pleasure made Sanguine’s cocks twitch and leak a gush of precome every time.

Both hands now. Farengar hesitated, then bent to mouth at the head of one oversized cock. Logistically, there was no way any part of it was going to fit in his mouth, so he didn't try. Instead, he ran his tongue along the groove, and listened with satisfaction to Sanguine's tortured moan. He liked that, did he? What if....

"Please," Sanguine tried, and was rewarded with Farengar's startled lust. He wondered if he could perhaps coax Farengar into a more controlling role, but it would have to be an experiment for another time. "Please fuck me."

"Yes," Farengar panted. He hauled himself forward so his cock lay between Sanguine's and rolled his hips forward and down. "Ah, hah, oh fuck—"

"Hold them together," Sanguine said, voice rough. He hadn't been prepared for just how _hot_ it would feel, with his precome slicking the way and those amazingly sensitive twin channels and how Farengar shuddered halfway through his thrust so the pressure didn't stay even. Sanguine was definitely moving "fuck a real dragon" up his priority list.

It took Farengar a moment to battle through the fog of pleasure, but to his credit, he worked out what Sanguine meant fairly quickly. He moved his weight back and squeezed the last third of Sanguine's cocks against each other with his hands, so that they were parallel instead of slightly splayed, with his own cock sinking deep into the crevice. He thrust forward again, to identical groans from them both.

Sanguine growled. "I can't believe that idiot's been wandering around killing dragons this whole time when he could have been doing this instead and letting me watch." He paused. "I can't believe all these dragons have been burning the place up when they could have been doing _this_ instead!"

Farengar stopped, apparently out of sheer confusion. "They don't? I mean, dragons don't have sex with each other?"

"No, they're immortal, is this really what you want to focus on right now?"

"How does that—"

Sanguine growled again, and this time made sure the sound resonated the length of his belly. Farengar's hips jerked gratifyingly. He moaned and slid forward again, slowly, relishing the sensation.

"Faster, damn you."

Farengar grinned. "Never thought I'd hear a Daedric Prince beg. Much less to me. Perhaps I should take notes."

_"Wizards,"_ Sanguine hissed. "You shouldn't be thinking. _Move."_

To Sanguine's immense displeasure, Farengar promptly did the exact opposite. He didn't withdraw completely, but he looked reluctant and a bit guilty. Sanguine sighed. "What now?" Farengar didn't want to stop, he was sure of that much.

The mage actually bit his lip and looked away, as if he was embarrassed, which was a bit rich coming from someone happily covered in sexual fluid from his chest to his knees. He ran one palm down Sanguine's groin, though, which went a long way towards keeping him in a good mood.

"I don't want it to end," he admitted.

Well, that was unexpectedly sweet. Sanguine took advantage of his serpentine neck to lean up and look Farengar in the eye. "This is not a one-time offer," he said, not ungently despite the frustrating neglect. "If you call to me again, I'll hear you, unless I'm already doing something."

Farengar clenched his jaw unhappily. "For a price," he said, with surprising bitterness. "That's how it works, isn't it? You lure mortals with, with depraved pleasures they can't get anywhere else, that they know they shouldn't have, and once they get— _addicted_ to it you claim their souls."

Sanguine was silent for a moment. There was clearly some kind of history behind that little speech, but that really wasn't what he was here for, and he suspected prying wouldn't help much anyway. "I won't deny I would accept you, if you offered yourself to me," he said quietly, "but I'm not Molag. I don't know why mortals have so much trouble with this. If you don't want me, you're not mine. That's all I am, is want. Doesn't even have to be sex, it's just mortals have a lot of hangups about it and it's fun. You want, and you think you shouldn't. You're ecstatic that you can study real dragons, even though they've killed scores of people, and you feel guilty because you think that should make you stop wanting it, and it doesn't. That's mine too, as much as this."

Farengar swallowed hard. "What happens when the thing someone wants is another Prince's?" he said softly.

"Is yours?" Sanguine asked.

Farengar looked up. "No, but. How does it work?"

Sanguine smiled, as best a dragon could. "The eternal mage question. Depends on which part is stronger. Depends on the mortal. Depends on what they think is more important. Depends on a lot of things. Everyone's different. Right now, I don't care about them. There aren't so many people calling my name on Nirn that I can't pay attention to the ones who ask pretty."

"Oh," Farengar said, a bit blankly. "And what if I don't—what if I'm never yours? What if this is a waste of time?"

Sanguine huffed out a breath, secretly delighted at how predatory it sounded. "It's not," he said, getting impatient. "Unless you're about to go back to your rooms and masturbate pathetically and never do anything you want ever again. That'd be a damn shame."

Farengar was quiet. Sanguine let him collect his thoughts for a minute, then curled his tail. The muscle at the base contracted, shifting against Farengar's balls and provoking a gasp. He eyed Sanguine. "Don't come. Not until I say."

That was more like it. "And how are you going to stop me?" Sanguine purred.

Farengar shook his head. "I'm not," he said, smirking. "You are. Because that's what I want."

"Is it," Sanguine breathed. He couldn't really move his hips in the position he was in, but he could and did tense his abdominal muscles in a slow wave, moving Farengar against him.

"Yes," Farengar said, and now he sounded fervent, fevered. "I want a dragon begging me for release. I want to know I have that power over you. Something as wild and gorgeous as a dragon, a real dragon, would never submit like that, but _you_. I want you to do what I want _because I want you to."_ He'd leaned forward, as though he were the predator and Sanguine the prey.

"Is that a challenge," Sanguine rumbled. It wasn't really a question.

"It's going to be," Farengar said, teeth bared. They'd lost some momentum while they were talking, but it didn't take Farengar long to regain it. He pumped Sanguine's cocks with both hands, apparently ignoring his own—but it was still nestled between Sanguine's, and he nearly lost his grip every time they slid together.

Sanguine let his head rest back on the ground. It certainly felt nice, and he had no doubt Farengar was going to bring himself off that way, but Sanguine himself wasn't exactly in danger of disobeying, not unless he did so on purpose.

And then he felt the jolt of possessive, guilt-tinged lust from Farengar, and then another, distinct, and a third, and he jerked his head back up and realized this might not be as easy as he'd thought.

Farengar was smirking at him. "I thought so," he said, entirely too smugly for someone who had to stop for breath in the middle. "If I just focus—"

Sanguine growled, but he had quite literally made his bed and was now obliged to lie in it. He let his head thump back down, groaning. It wouldn't even have been so bad if Farengar had the mental discipline to set up some kind of pattern; as it was, he was distracted and unpracticed, and it felt like the flat of a knife on Sanguine's skin, the point digging it at random intervals. He tried not to writhe. "Ssssmart mortal, it's always the quiet ones, fuck, fuck—!"

Farengar brought his Restoration magicka to bear, not casting anything, just letting the spell gutter in his palms. Sanguine thrashed his tail hard enough to make the earth around them shake.

If there was a saving grace to the teasing, it was that Farengar, by dint of concentrating on his own arousal, wasn't going to last much longer either. His thrusts became erratic as he rose up on his knees, fucking faster and faster and at last bringing his hand down to push himself over the edge. He came with a quiet, ragged sound and Sanguine, much to his pleased surprise, actually had to make an effort not to do the same.

Farengar slumped over Sanguine's cocks, trapping them between their bellies. "Come on," he said, voice rough with sated exhaustion. "I want to feel it, I want to feel you coming around my cock." He rolled his hips once more, chasing sweet-sharp aftershocks.

Sanguine roared and obeyed. Fluid gushed between them, turning Farengar and most of Sanguine's pelvis into a swampy mess. He felt Farengar's softening cock sliding forward, half-intentionally, and relished the little oversensitive whimper that tore out of the mage.

When he opened his eyes, he was looking upside-down at a copse of trees, all flattened away from him. He twisted his head around (really, dragon necks were wonderful) and regarded them a bit sheepishly.

"I think you Shouted," Farengar said, dazed.

Probably. "...Oops."

Farengar hauled himself up to the dry part of Sanguine's chest and flopped down on his back. "Eh. We're far enough from Whiterun, nobody wants to fight a dragon in the middle of the night."

"Including the dragon," Sanguine said dryly. He picked his head up and looked himself over. "Wow. I was not expecting all...." He waved one foot vaguely. "This."

"The mess? Do real dragons, er, produce that much...?"

Sanguine shrugged, an interesting maneuver while upside down with wings for arms. "I guess so. I didn't do it on purpose. Hot as fuck, though. Least until it dries."

Farengar grimaced and sat up. "We should clean up, shouldn't we?"

"Mm." Sanguine mulled it over and decided against it. "Nah, can't be assed." He waved one wing for effect and the accumulated fluids vanished. "There, fixed it, cuddle me."

Farengar snorted even as he lay back down. "The Daedric Prince of debauchery is a cuddler," he said, mildly incredulous. "How in Oblivion do you maintain any kind of reputation?"

"You want me to fuck you in the middle of town so you can show off your pet dragon," Sanguine said.

Farengar squeaked. "That's a horrible idea!"

"We should do it."

"No! What part of 'that's a horrible idea' don't you understand?"

Sanguine chuckled. "Oh, come on. All the best stuff starts with 'that's a horrible idea.' It's right up there with 'hold my mead' and 'what's the worst that could happen?'"

"I take it back, now I know exactly why you have that reputation."

Sanguine just laughed.

* * *

"Well? What do you think?"

Sultris set down the quill she'd been taking notes with. "I think I can... work with that," she said delicately. "Did you mean it? That you'd go back to him?"

"Sure," Sanguine said. "He was fun. I always like the weird ones, y'know? The ones that don't fit in. Nine times out of ten, kinky as fuck."

Sultris turned to him fully and studied Sanguine's vaguely average Nord form. He was sitting on the same bed as before, hands cuffed behind him and anchored to the bedpost. His legs were crossed beneath him, doing nothing to hide the bulge in his pants he'd gotten while telling his story. Her eyes lingered, and he noticed.

"Er. I can take a different form, if you...."

She raised an eyebrow. "What, no quip to imply you'd like to have sex with me?"

He shrugged. "I don't. You don't. Not really."

"You care," Sultris said quietly, like she'd figured something out. "Don't you? You get invested in us. You don't see us as tools like some of the other gods."

"Oh, trust me, I see a lot of tools," Sanguine told her, grinning.

She rolled her eyes. "And the natural order has been restored." Sultris looked over her notes, thinking. "Oh, what did you mean with the, the 'dragons don't have sex because they're immortal' bit? I mean, you're immortal." She indicated his current situation with a gesture.

"There's, like, a set number of dragon souls or something," Sanguine said. "You don't see any little Alduins running around, do ya? And they can't stand each other, they'd die out if they actually needed to reproduce."

"They died out anyway," Sultris pointed out.

"Well, there you have it."

Sultris snorted, dropped her quill on the desk, and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know if I can publish this. Random unnamed cultists are one thing, but Whiterun's court wizard? I doubt he'd be happy to see this in print. I don't want to ruin the man's reputation, I've never even met him."

"Reputations are for suckers," Sanguine said cheerfully. "Who says he has to see it?"

"Statistics," Sultris said dryly. "I'd be more worried about it if I were you. If everyone you do anything questionable with oh-so-coincidentally happens to get a completely accurate book written about them detailing their most closely-kept secrets, you're going to get a lot fewer takers."

"So change the names," Sanguine offered. "He's not Whiterun's court wizard, he's, uh, Somebody Something from Black...walk, whatever. I mean, he'll probably know it's him, but nobody else will. At least not for sure."

"You are not allowed to name anything," Sultris said, but she drummed her fingers on the desk and looked thoughtful. "I get the feeling I'm going to regret taking your advice, but.... Well, we'll see. Give me a week or two to get a draft written and talk with Hess. I have no doubt you can get up to plenty of trouble in that time."

Sanguine gave her an innocent look. "Me? Trouble? Never."

Sultris just laughed and shooed him away. He went, grinning. Trouble, hmm? He'd see what he could do.

**Author's Note:**

> As you may have guessed, Sultris is a bit of a self-insert, except I'm agender and so white I'm literally translucent. Also much shorter. And yes, it's a pen name, her real name is probably something completely normal but "Sultris Amor" is like the perfect fake Dunmer porn name and I couldn't not. Anyway, I tell you this because her behavior isn't exactly the party line for an asexual character, and it's not because I don't know how asexuality works.
> 
> Anyone got a good adjective for "thief" that fits with the rest of these titles?
> 
> If you would like to support my continued existence, I have a Patreon, which I can't link here because it's against the ToS to ask for money on AO3 but there's certainly nothing stopping you from figuring out that I use the same screen/pen name literally everywhere and doing whatever you like with that information.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Magickal Lore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20602364) by [thriceandonce (sylvaine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvaine/pseuds/thriceandonce)




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